


Barbs Pierce Like Knives

by augopher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguing, First Kiss, Injury, M/M, Oblivious, POV Third Person Plural, Pack fights Wyverns, Stiles saves Derek, Trapped In Elevator, twist ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rooftop fight, in which the pack battles a a trio of Wyverns, Stiles saves Derek's life. Derek is not happy about the unnecessary risk and follows Stiles into the elevator. Naturally, as two strong willed people are wont to do, they argue and feelings come to light...and that's when things really go to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barbs Pierce Like Knives

**Author's Note:**

> For the Sterek Writers Network (sterekwriters.tumblr.com) new challenge of a fic based on the following prompt:
> 
> -Stuck in an elevator following a fight.

 

The trio of wyverns had run, well, flown the pack ragged for what felt like hours. Kira managed to kill one of them, slicing its head clean off with a perfectly executed swing of her katana. At least the things did not breath fire. Actually, Stiles was pretty sure venomous saliva was way worse than fire. Especially in this weather, where the rain would douse the flames. Why did supernatural beings always bring thunderstorms with them?

From across the rooftop of the office building the trio of winged serpents had claimed as their own for the past week, Stiles watched Derek run over to Isaac’s writhing form as his beta took a spray of wyvern spit across the chest. As reward for his bravery, Derek got thrown against the air conditioning unit by a wayward wing and went down hard. He’d heal; Stiles knew he would. Each of the wolves so far had received some form of venom related injury. Stiles, however, was under direct orders to stay out of the fight as much as possible.

_Gee thanks, Derek. Way to take your reclaimed alpha status to a whole new level of assholism._

The second wyvern, the larger of the two, circled around the roof. Its black and dark green body almost disappeared against the night sky. Stiles would have yelled out a warning, but amidst the chaos, he knew Derek wouldn’t hear him. How he saw the flash of movement in the dark, he’d never know, and how he made it across the rooftop fast enough, he couldn’t say.

Stiles crashed into Derek at full speed, just as the wyvern’s tail whipped forward, knocking them to the ground.

He heard an earsplitting screech, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott straddling the smaller one’s head. With one hand, Scott’s claws had gouged out an eye. With the other, he’d plunged one of Kira’s shorter swords down through its skull to pierce its brain.

Two down, one to go.

From his perch atop the stairwell, Chris zeroed his rifle’s sights on the last beast’s head and pulled the trigger. With a deafening crack, the bullet struck the thing through the mouth; its head exploded above where Stiles still had Derek pinned to the ground. Stiles would forever reek of wyvern blood.

And just like that, the grueling fight was over. “Everyone okay? Or will be okay?” Scott asked, and thankfully, the pack seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed.

“I’m just going to go change out of these clothes, and possibly burn them.” Stiles headed for the door back down into the building.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Not ten steps into the lobby, Stiles realized he had a shadow. “We killed them all. Don’t need a bodyguard, Derek.” He stabbed the down button with his index finger.

“What the hell was that?” He tried to stem his mounting fury, but the anger in his voice was more than apparent.

“You know, a simple thank you would suffice.” Stiles grumbled something about ungrateful werewolves under his breath and walked through the open elevator doors.

Derek spun him around. “Which one of us can heal?”

“And which one of us was about to get mauled and thrown off the building? Give you a hint. It wasn’t me!” Stiles glared at him. “I saved your life, Derek… again. And you have  _never_ thanked me!” As soon as the doors closed, he wanted to leave the car. On the ride up, he pretty much determined this to be the slowest elevator on the planet. Sharing the slow way down with an angry werewolf was not the way he wanted to end his evening.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Derek crossed his arms across his chest. “That thing could have killed you.”

Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. “News flash! It could have killed you too. Pretty sure a thirty story fall would even kill a werewolf, seeing as a thirty _foot_ fall almost killed you before.”

Derek gave him a death glare. How could he make Stiles see, make him understand?

“You know, ever since you became an Alpha again, you have treated me like I’m made of porcelain! I get it, okay? Compared to you all, I’m defenseless in your eyes. You may think I am a useless fragile human, but I think I have proven over and over I can keep up with you guys.” The longer Derek remained silent, the more enraged Stiles became. “Why do I even bother with you? It’s like talking to a fucking brick wall!”

Derek dropped his arms from his chest to his sides, where he balled his hands into fists and then released them, repeating this action several times. He felt his claws threatening to break through.

“Fine! You know what? The next monster that comes to this supernatural catnip of a town and tries to kill you…I’ll let it succeed. Would that make you feel better? Huh? Finally get to be the martyr you’ve tried to be for years? God knows no one else could possibly value your life at all. Because no one could ever care if you died,  right?” Stiles leaned against the wall of the elevator and craned his head to the ceiling, closing his eyes to keep Derek from seeing the pain in his eyes. They’d had this argument too many times to count now, and it always ended the same way: In a stalemate.

“I don’t think you’re useless.” Derek’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“Right. Sure you don’t.” Stiles switched to the voice he liked to call ‘I’m the alpha’ voice. “Stay here, Stiles. This isn’t your fight, Stiles. Why don’t you ever listen, Stiles? You can’t heal like we can, Stiles.” He didn’t even bother to open his eyes and look at the guy.

Derek sighed loudly enough, he swore they could hear it on the roof. “I just… you could get hurt, and I don’t want that. That would- If something- I can’t lose anyone else.” He closed the distance between them. “Especially not you.”

Stiles brought his head back to center and opened his eyes to see Derek standing in front of him with less than a foot between them. Derek, however, would not meet his eyes. “Look at me.” He tilted Derek’s face up only to find unshed tears pooled in his eyes. “Hey, I’m fine.”

“This time.” Derek’s lip quivered, and he swallowed hard.

“Wait…you _like_  me.”

Derek worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Something like that.” When Stiles laughed, he took a couple steps back. “Just forget it.”

Stiles stepped towards him. “You idiot. Why in the hell do you think I keep risking my life for yours?”

"Please, stop doing that. I don’t… I don’t want to hold your dead body. Okay?" Stiles gave hive a small nod, and with an expression akin to something hopeful, Derek glanced at Stiles’ mouth then back to his eyes, an unspoken question.

He gave Derek a crooked smile and a little nod. For all their miscommunication over the years, this, he understood perfectly. The pressure of Derek’s lips on his was far more gentle than he’d ever imagined, too gentle really. He clutched at Derek’s jacket and gave a little tug, pulling his body tightly against his own. The guy took the hint, and backed him against the wall much harder than the way he kissed, which… ouch. True to a werewolf’s nature, Derek kissed down to Stiles’ neck, nipping slightly at the skin over his pulse point.

The lights flickered in the elevator, and the whirring machinery came to a stop. Derek chuckled against the skin of Stiles’ neck. “Finally, something went right tonight.” His hands came to a rest at Stiles’ waist, the fabric of the jacket tacky with wyvern blood. Disgusted by that thought, he pushed the jacket off Stiles’ shoulders and let it fall to the floor before shifting a few steps to the right, taking Stiles with him.

The audible hiss Stiles made as his body slid across the wall, echoed throughout the car. He pushed Derek away from him and winced. “It’s been a long time since you threw me against a wall like that.” He reached back to rub at a sore area on his back. As soon as his fingers met his shirt, he felt the large tear in the fabric, and pulled his hand away to see if covered in a deep, red. The wrong color for wyvern blood.

He felt all the color drain from his face, as he finally became aware of the pain, the searing pain which had up until then, been masked by the high from the fight. “It’s a funny thing, adrenaline.” He chuckled and fell into Derek’s chest.

Derek helped him sit and lifted his blood soaked shirt. In front of him, staring him in the face, was a gaping wound the size of… the barb on a wyvern tail about the size of his fist.

“How bad is it, Doc?”

Derek shucked his jacket first, and then his shirt, balling it up to pack the wound. Derek watched the grey henley quickly turn red. He was sure the look on his face said everything his mouth couldn’t.

Once he had Stiles situated against the wall, he pried the elevator doors open only to be met with a concrete slab.

They were stuck in between floors, and there was no way he could carry Stiles, climb up the cable, and manage to open the doors on the floor above. His heart sank.

Helpless. 

Just like with Paige, it was happening all over again, and he could hardly breathe.

He sat down and pulled Stiles into his lap so their chests met. It was the easiest way for him to keep pressure on the wound. If he could do that, maybe…maybe they’d have enough time. “Can you reach my jacket?”

Stiles weakly grabbed at the jacket. After some difficulty, he tugged it towards them.

“Get out my phone. You need an ambulance, and fast.”

With only two words, Stiles felt hope crash to the floor: No service. “Problem with that…” He showed Derek the screen. “I really fucked up didn’t I?” His voice broke.

Derek could only nod, his throat too thick with emotion to speak at all.

Stiles blinked back tears. “I…just wanted to help.” He leaned his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “Sorry, m’sorry, I didn’t-” He burst into tears, repeating his one word apology over and over; the word began to slur the longer he went on. “Didn’tmeanthisttohappen.”

Derek supposed he could offer empty platitudes like ‘Don’t talk like that’ or ‘Save your strength.’ He knew better though. Those kind of things never offered much in the way of comfort. Shaky hands rubbed the back of Stiles’ head. “I know. I know you didn’t.” He could no longer hold back, and the floodgates opened on his eyes.

“R’s so many things…to say. My dad…you have…make sure eats right. Don’ let ‘im drink much.”

“I will.”

Stiles brought his hand to rest over Derek’s heart, and was silent for a minute, before lifting his head so he could look at him, his face wan, eyes glassy. He leaned his head and bared his neck, before taking as deep a breath as he could. “Bite me.”

Even though Stiles’ bright eyes were now dull, Derek could see he meant what he’d said, despite his previous words that he’d never ask for the bite. Derek supposed staring death in the face had a strange way of altering ones perception. “But it might not take. Could kill you.”

“M’dyin’ anyway. Jus’doit…trust you.”

Derek took a good long look at him, memorizing his face, the color of his eyes, just in case the bite killed him instantly. “I…I…”

Stiles rubbed his hand over the fabric of Derek’s shirt. “I know. Me too.”

Derek bared his fangs and sank them into Stiles’ shoulder, keeping them there longer than necessary for the bite, hoping that maybe the extra time would help it take. When he felt Stiles go limp in his arms, he pulled back and gave him a little shake, but there was no response.

The only sounds he could hear in the elevator were his heaving sobs, and his own breaking heartbeat.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Bourbon colored eyes snapped open in confusion, taking in the familiar surroundings of a room they’d known for almost two decades, and they’d have sworn it had all been a nightmare if not for two things:

The smell of sadness and three distinct heartbeats wallowing in misery on the floor below.


End file.
